Sugar Sweet Sin

A Tasting

"How did it go?" Mama Pat asks.

It's two days after my date with Dean—the first time Mama Pat is working since that dramatic evening—and she's nearly bursting as she pulls out her ingredients for a batch of strawberry cupcakes. I'm guessing from her grin that she hasn't spoken to Dean yet.

"He's very nice," I say. "And you were right—he's really cute."

Her eyebrow rises. She knows me too well. "But?"

"But there wasn't any chemistry," I say, then add, "Sadly. Because he seems like a sweet guy." I still feel a twinge—okay, more than a twinge—of guilt over how I handled things. Because even though I know Dean and I don't have a future, he still deserved better. I still have no idea if he guessed what happened between Dante and me against the side of the bar—he didn't ask where I'd been when I returned to the table, and he didn't ask about Dante at all—but it was clear he knew that there was no point in dragging things out any longer. When he dropped me off at my house, he simply said, as pleasantly as ever, "Thank you for the nice evening. I think our interests might lie in separate directions, but I wish you the best."

There'd been no anger in his voice, no resentment—which made me feel worse because I definitely deserved a little of both.

How the hell did I let things get to this point with Dante?

I've tossed and turned in bed the two nights since, trying to forget about that kiss. And the things Dante said before and after. His words still ring in my head: I've never stopped regretting the last time I let you walk away from me.

How am I supposed to interpret that? That he wishes we'd never broken up? If he feels that way, then why did he wait until now to tell me? He's had plenty of time to do it.

"Ash?" Mama Pat says.

I realize she's asked me a question. "I'm sorry—what were you saying?"

"Did you want to try the new buttercream recipe with these?"

"Sure."

For a moment, we work in silence. I keep thinking about the things Dante has said to me over the past two weeks. He says there's no denying this. No pretending that there's nothing between us. And as much as I hate to admit it... he's right. That kiss was like nothing I've ever experienced before. Even now, just thinking about it, my body begins to respond—my skin going hot, my nipples hardening against my bra, my tongue feeling suddenly thick and dry. There's a dull but insistent ache growing between my legs as I remember the way his lips tasted. The way his fingers dug into my sides. The way his thigh pressed in deliberate torture against the most sensitive part of my body...

A shiver courses through me—part arousal, part fear. My stomach is tight and my heart pounds as I feel the last of my defenses crumbling away. I've tried everything to protect myself from this man, from the way he makes me feel. There won't be a happy ending to this. But I can't help myself. He's right—I still want him. Still need him. Still crave him with every part of myself, body and soul. I'm about to have my heart broken all over again because I'm too weak to control my emotions.

The kitchen phone rings. Karen and Jilly only send calls back here if they're ones I need to handle personally—supply vendors, wedding clients, and the like—so I wipe my hands on my apron and grab it.

"Hello?" I say. "Ashlyn speaking. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to schedule a tasting."

My pulse quickens at the sound of that voice.

"Dante," I say, lowering my voice and turning my back to make it harder for Mama Pat to overhear our conversation. "Why are you calling here?"